Escape Velocity

by Christopher Stasheff

  Dar developed a faraway look. “General, excuse me—we have the complete military personnel records on cube, don't we?”

  “Not for personal use,” Shacklar said dryly. “And I'm sure the Honorable Bhelabher understands the importance of confidentiality.”

  “That's what I was hoping. . . .”

  “I don't think you appreciate how great a benefit the computer can be, for all humankind.”

  Bhelabher nodded. “Quite true, really. If the sum total of human knowledge holds the answer to a question, the computer will find it for you.”

  “Quite enviable, really.” Shacklar toyed with the cube again. “Myself, I have no ability to organize data. I have to keep everything in my head—and it goes without saying that, far too often, I fail to find the solution, because the one vital bit of information is not in my head.”

  “Well, that won't happen again.” Bhelabher's eyes gleamed. “I'll revamp your data banks so that you'll be amazed at the myriads of facts that you didn't know were there.”

  Dar stiffened. That had an unpleasantly definite ring to it.

  Bhelabher turned to him, beaming, to confirm it. “The General has accepted my application, you see. I'm going to stay here on Wolmar; and set up an information storage-and-retrieval system.”

  “And streamline our bureaucracy a bit,” Shacklar added. “You'd be amazed at all the points of inefficiency he's noticed already. The Honorable Bhelabher has been gracious enough to place his considerable talents at our disposal.”

  “And gracious of you it is to say so.” Bhelabher gave Shacklar a polite nod that bordered on a bow.

  Privately, Dar shuddered, and wished he weren't going to be staying. He had an idea that living under Bhelabher's streamlining wasn't going to be much fun.

  But then, he'd figured without Shacklar's restraining influence. Certainly the General had worked wonders in the Honorable already.

  “But I do realize that I'm not the man for any more of a job than that here.” Bhelabher explained to Dar. “So I'm sending my resignation back to Terra.”

  Dar's eyes widened. It was too good to be true. Even if it was sort of what Cholly had figured would happen. . . .

  “And my staff will be staying here with me,” Bhelabher went on. “The General assures me they're needed.”

  That, Dar could believe. Most of Bhelabher's staff were female.

  “This, however, leaves me without someone to carry my resignation back to Terra,” Bhelabher noted.

  Dar suddenly felt very wary.

  “Would you like to see Terra, Ardnam?” Shacklar murmured.

  Dar held onto his chair while the blood roared in his ears and the world seemed to grow insubstantial. Escape! And to Terra!

  “I'm afraid you must decide rather quickly,” Shacklar went on. “The courier ship that brought the Honorable is scheduled to blast out of orbit in three hours, bound for the colonial branch government on Haldane IV. From there, you'll have to arrange transportation to Terra, and I don't doubt it'll take quite a few transfers. There's very little direct traffic to or from the Central Worlds.”

  Dar's mouth went dry. “Don't get me wrong, I'd love to do it—but I don't have much experience at that kind of traveling.”

  “No, nor do you know how to work your way through the web of the I.D.E. bureaucracy on Terra—but I understand there's a young lady, just in from the home planet, who's been in your company lately . . .”

  “Sam Bine,” Dar croaked.

  “Yes, a Ms. Bine. I know it's beastly to ask her to leave so soon after she's arrived; but, in view of the importance of the matter . . .”

  “She was just leaving, anyway.” Better and better! Escape to Terra, and with a female traveling companion! “Or should I say, I think I can talk her into it.”

  “Please do.” Shacklar picked up a pen and made a note. “With luck, the two of you might reach BOA about the same time as my request for clarification of the Honorable Bhelabher's credentials.”

  “You could cancel that, you know,” Bhelabher pointed out.

  Shacklar looked up, his face a total blank. Then the light slowly dawned. “Do you know, I believe you're right.”

  “You see?” Bhelabher beamed at Dar. “There's so much I can do here!”

  “True,” Dar agreed—but he wondered how long Shacklar could keep up such high-quality acting.

  Long enough for Bhelabher's resignation to reach Terra, at least.

  “You'll have an official pardon, of course,” Shacklar added.

  “I'll do it! But, uh—just one question. . . .”

  “Yes?” Shacklar blinked mildly.

  “Why'll it be so hard to find the right person in the BOA bureaucracy to give your resignation to?”

  “Because,” said Bhelabher, “my appointment to Wolmar was a very highly classified secret.”

  Dar managed not to look startled.

  6

  “But if it was such a deep dark secret, how did you find out about it?” Dar demanded.

  Sam's lips thinned. “Oh, all right! If you really have to know—I was a clerk in the classified division, with a top-level security clearance.”

  “Oh.” Dar's lower lip thrust out as he nodded slowly. “Yeah, that makes sense. Weren't your bosses a little, ah, taken aback, when you resigned?”

  “Very,” Sam said grimly, “especially when they found out I'd turned into a Hume. I had a very difficult time getting a passport.”

  “How did you manage it?”

  Sam shrugged. “Very involved. Let's just say I know how to handle a bureaucracy.”

  “Uh, yeah, I don't think I really want to know the details.” Dar pressed a hand over his eyes. “But you did get away. That's what counts.”

  “Not all that much,” Sam answered with a grim smile. “There was a commercial traveler outbound from Terra on the same liner I was on, and he made every transfer I did, up until the last leg from Haldane IV to here.”

  “Agent, following you?” Cholly grunted.

  Sam nodded, and held out her glass for a refill. “You sound as though you recognize the symptoms.”

  “In a manner of speaking.” Cholly poured. “Now, I'm certain it's just my nasty, suspicious mind, but—I do believe that nice young blond man from Bhelabher's staff's been keeping an eye on you.”

  “Just my glamor and magnetic personality, I'm sure,” Sam said dryly. “I've noticed him, too. In fact, I'd've had to've been blind not to.”

  “Well, every secret agent has to learn his trade sometime.”

  “I know a way to ditch him,” Dar ventured.

  “So do I,” she said sourly. “Leave Wolmar.”

  Dar stared. “How'd you know?”

  Sam's head lifted. “You mean you were seriously going to recommend that? What's the matter, am I getting to be an embarrassment?”

  “No, no, just the other way around!” Dar said quickly. “You see, I've got this great offer to leave, but I have to take somebody with me who knows the ropes in the Terran bureaucracy.”

  The silence stretched out while Sam's lower lip slowly protruded. “So. They made you an offer you couldn't refuse.”

  “Well, I wouldn't say couldn't—but I wasn't about to. How about it?”

  Sam frowned. “The idea's got its appeal—I've learned what I wanted to here. But this place has a lot of advantages over Terra, if you know what I mean.”

  “No,” Dar said promptly. “I can't imagine how any place could have an advantage over Terra—especially a backwater like this.”

  Cholly turned away to put glasses back on shelves, whistling tunelessly between his teeth.

  “Don't worry,” Sam said bitterly, “you will. And, although I wouldn't mind a return visit to Terra, I have a notion I'd very quickly find myself looking back to this place with nostalgia. How do I get back here if I want to? It took me ten years of saving, just to get the fare out here in the first place.”

  “Well, I think Shacklar might be induced to guarantee your ret
urn fare,” Dar said judiciously. “He seemed awfully anxious to get me to leave.”

  “Sheriff trouble?”

  “No, no! I'm taking Bhelabher's resignation back to Terra!”

  Cholly dropped a glass and spun around. “That's all I need to hear. You're going. An' so're you.” He aimed a finger at Sam. “Can't leave this poor, innocent lamb to the mercy of them Terran wolves. I'll guarantee yer return fare, if it comes to it.”

  “Done!” Sam slapped the bar. “I'm off on the road back to Terra! But why can't Bhelabher take it back himself?”

  “Because he's staying here.”

  Cholly dropped another glass.

  “Oh.” Sam chewed that one over. “How about his staff?”

  “They're staying too. Seems we'll be needing 'em.”

  “No, don't tell me—you're cutting into me glassware.” Cholly held up a hand. “Shacklar's giving 'em all jobs.”

  Dar nodded. “Bhelabher's going to revise the filing system and streamline the bureaucracy.”

  “Well, there goes private enterprise,” Cholly sighed.

  “No, Bhelabher's not that bad,” Sam said judiciously. “He did a fine job as long as he was only in charge of the records for Terra. It was when they put him in charge of the records for the whole I.D.E. that he ran into trouble.”

  “Oh?” Cholly looked up, with a glimmer of hope. “He had the ability, but couldn't handle responsibility, heh?”

  Sam nodded. “Something like that. As long as he was able to take orders, he was fine. It was being top man that stymied him.”

  “Better 'n better.” Cholly nodded. “Then no doubt he'll take Shacklar's orders to leave some glitches in the bureaucracy.”

  Sam frowned. “Why?”

  “It makes for flexibility, lass. If the bureaucracy's too efficient, it gives the central government too much power, and they control every aspect of life. But a little inefficiency . . . now, that leaves some room for a man to beat the system. . . . Well! You'll only have one problem, then, Dar.”

  Dar looked up, startled. “What's that?”

  “Shacklar thinks you're Ardnam Rod now, and all yer papers'll be made out to him.”

  “Oh.” Dar pursed his lips. “That will be a problem, won't it?”

  “But not much of one.” Sam patted his arm reassuringly. “Trust your traveling bureaucrat.”

  Dar frowned. “Where's he going?”

  “Who?” Sam pressed up to the window, craning her neck. “That guy in the coverall, going over to the control shed?”

  “Yeah—he's the pilot! Who's going to fly the ferry up to the courier ship?”

  Sam shrugged. “His relief, I suppose. No doubt he's taking a planet-side leave.”

  He's just had a week's worth—or, no, I can't really say that, can I?”

  “Right. For all you know, he's run daily missions since Bhelabher came in.”

  “But I didn't know we had a relief pilot down here.”

  “Is it your job to know the duty roster?”

  Dar turned to her. “You know, as a traveling companion, you might get to be a bit difficult.”

  Sam shrugged. “You're free to choose any other BOA clerk you can find here.”

  “Well, I suppose I could talk to one of Bhelabher's people.” Dar turned back to the window. “But somehow, I think you'd be a little more . . .”

  “Dependable, I assure you,” murmured an approaching voice.

  Dar stiffened. “Company.”

  “. . . Oh, I have no doubt of that,” Bhelabher was saying hurriedly. “But the situation is not. I am concerned that our courier might be delayed.”

  Dar and Sam turned around slowly as Bhelabher and Shacklar came toward them. “I suggest you have a word with him yourself, and warn him of the pitfalls of the journey.” Shacklar looked up. “Well, Ardnam! This will be ‘bon voyage,' then.” He clasped Dar's hand tightly and gave it a shake. “You've been a credit to my command here, young man. I'll be sorry to lose you—but do remember how great a service you'll be performing, for all of us who remain here on Wolmar.”

  “It's a pleasure to do my duty, sir.” Dar took Shacklar's commendation with a grain of salt, since “Ardnam” had only been under Shacklar's command for a week.

  Shacklar released his hand and stepped back. “I believe the Honorable has a word for you, too.” Bhelabher pressed in, and Shacklar turned away to Sam.

  “Be careful, young man, do be careful,” Bhelabher said loudly, drawing Dar further away from Shacklar and Sam. He dropped his voice to a low rumble. “Now, I hadn't wanted to mention this to the general; after all, there's no need to worry him with something over which he has no control.”

  Dar instantly felt a need to worry. “Uh . . . such as?”

  “When I was back on Terra, and in an office of some influence, some members of the LORDS party approached me—you know of them?”

  “Uh, yeah.” Dar wet his lips. “They're the arch-conservatives in the assembly, aren't they?”

  “I wouldn't have used the ‘arch' a week ago. I do now, though.” Bhelabher shook his head in wonder. “What an amazing planet this is!”

  “About the LORDS,” Dar prompted.

  “Indeed. They approached me, to see if I would be interested in joining in a scheme to overthrow the Secretary-General and establish a temporary LORDS junta, to govern while the I.D.E. government could be restructured along more efficient lines.”

  Dar stood rigid, feeling like a resistor in a high-voltage circuit. “You're . . . talking about a dictatorship.”

  “Certainly; it's the most efficient form of government there is!”

  “Oh, sure.” Dar passed a dry tongue over drier lips. “Of course it's efficient. It just wipes out all those silly time-wasters—you know, parliamentary debate, public input, elections, trial by jury. All those silly, inefficient boondoggles.”

  “Indeed it does. And as an administrator, I can assure you—they do take a great deal of time. They also encumber an amazing number of people, keeping them from tasks in production.”

  Dar nodded sardonically. “And all you get for all that time and trouble are little, unnecessary luxuries, such as liberty and justice.”

  “Make no mistake; they are luxuries.” Bhelabher smiled with sudden, amazing warmth. “But they seem much more important out here, where they help people to actually do something!”

  “Kind of makes up for the cost?”

  “Well worth it, well worth it! In fact, I've a suspicion liberty is actually cost-efficient, in a growing society.”

  “But you couldn't prove it, to the LORDS?”

  Bhelabher smiled sadly. “Would they even listen?”

  “I'd think so.” Dar frowned. “Even a conservative can have an open mind.”

  “Not if he's in power. Efficiency matters far more to those who give orders than to those who take them.” Bhelabher held up a forefinger. “Take the Minister of the Exchequer, now—his purpose is to keep the economy of the whole I.D.E. family of planets as high as possible.”

  “Uh, with respect. Honorable—isn't the correct word ‘profitable'?”

  “No, it certainly isn't—but the Minister very quickly comes to believe that it is. Consequently, he tends to frown on anything that costs more than it makes.”

  Dar frowned. “Such as?”

  “Such as trade to the outlying planets—for example, Wolmar.”

  “Now, hold on!” Dar was amazed to realize he was getting angry; he fought down his temper, and went on. “We always ship out a lot of pipe weed.”

  “Indeed you do—but I've seen the trade reports, and the goods I.D.E. sends to you cost far more than your pipe weed brings—not even counting the shipping cost. No, I.D.E. shows a definite loss on you.”

  “Well, you'll pardon me if I think we're worth it!”

  “Of course—more than worth it. But how do you explain that to the Minister of the Exchequer?”

  “Hm.” Dar frowned. “I see the problem. And there're a lot of
planets like ours, aren't there?”

  “Upwards of thirty.” Bhelabher nodded. “Thirty frontier worlds, and the Minister shows a loss for each of them—thirty or forty billion BTUs apiece. It adds up to a very substantial drain on the economy.”

  “It'll pay off, though—someday!” Dar's temper kindled again. “Give us time, and we'll be sending out more than we bring in!” A sudden thought nudged Dar's brain. He cocked his head to the side, gazing at Bhelabher through slitted eyes. “It's no accident that you mentioned the Minister of the Exchequer, is it?”

  Bhelabher stared at him in surprise. Then he smiled sheepishly. “Indeed it's not. Yes, the Exchequer was the LORD who came to call on me. And his argument was very persuasive—very persuasive, indeed! And once he had me believing that the outlying planets should be cut off and left to their own devices, he arranged my appointment as governor.”

  “So . . . that's . . . why!” Then another sudden hunch hit, and Dar frowned. “You wouldn't be telling me this if you didn't think I could do something about it.”

  “I don't know if you can or not,” Bhelabher said earnestly, “but you must try. It isn't easy to gain an appointment with the Secretary-General, young man, but if you can, you must tell him that Electors Boundbridge and Satrap are leaguing with General Forcemain to attempt a coup d'etat. Can you remember those names?”

  “Boundbridge, Satrap, and Forcemain.” Dar nodded, repeating them silently in his head, getting the meter down. “Boundbridge, Satrap, and Forcemain . . . yeah, I'll remember. But this is the top man in all of human civilization we're talking about, Honorable. He's not going to believe the ordinary young punk off the street without some pretty powerful evidence!”

  “He shall have it.” Bhelabher pressed a slip of paper into Dar's hand. “Memorize that set of numbers, young man, and when you've done so, burn the paper. The Secretary-General has only to put them into the nearest computer terminal, and the screen will display an excellent little collection of documents, complete with signatures.”

  Dar stared at the slip of paper. “But . . . but how did you . . . ?”